


A scratch

by tveckling



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: (Can be canon era or modern or future or whenever), Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Big Brother Mercutio, Death, Gen, Mercutio is 19, Unclear era, Valentine is 14, aftermath of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 13:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10387608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: It'll be fine. Mercutio said so, and he had never lied to Valentine, so of course he believed it. Until it wasn't fine any longer.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MercutioLives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercutioLives/gifts).



Valentine flinched as the door opened, hugging his legs harder and pressing his face further into his knees. If they didn't see his face then they couldn't see how scared he was. It was hard to ignore the part of him that scoffed at the thought, but Mercutio had said it was a good idea. Mercutio never lied to him. So Valentine hid his face and focused on making his body seem as relaxed as possible.

Thankfully it wasn't one of the days when their captors tried to talk to him, and the moment he heard the door close again Valentine jumped up to his feet and hurried over to where Mercutio lied in a heap. As Mercutio rolled to his back Valentine looked over his bare torso, studying each new wound. Mercutio always had new wounds when they returned him, always.

"Hey there, kiddo." Mercutio's whisper was hoarse, and Valentine's throat ached in sympathy. He doubted Mercutio could have spoken normally if he'd tried.

"Hey," he whispered back. His tongue was thick in his mouth as he saw the beginnings of red lines on top of Mercutio's shoulders, going down to his back. As Mercutio lied Valentine couldn't see more than the very beginnings of them, and he didn't know how many there were, how long they were, how _deep_ they were. He should turn Mercutio over, study the new wounds and care for them as good as he could. He needed to do it, the knot in his stomach urged him to do it, because those wounds were for his sake. Every day, every time their captors came, Mercutio would fight and provoke them, making sure that he was the one they dragged out of the room. They never touched Valentine.

Mercutio did it all for him, so the least he could do was to take care of the wounds with the limited resources they were allowed, but his hands were shaking so badly, his throat was tightening so he couldn't speak, and even though he blinked hard he couldn't get rid of the tears in his eyes. He had to care for Mercutio's wounds, or if not that then at least be calm and positive, and now he couldn't even do that. He felt worthless, _useless._

"Val, hey." Mercutio put a calm hand on top of Valentine's shaking ones, and held his cheek when Valentine looked up in his face. "I'm fine, it's just a flesh wound. I'll be okay. It looks worse than it is, okay? I'm fine. We're fine." 

Valentine scrunched his eyes shut and leaned down, pressing his forehead against Mercutio's shoulder. "When is uncle coming to get us?" he whispered, trying, and failing, at holding back his tears any longer. 

"I don't know, kiddo." Mercutio stroked Valentine's head soothingly, ever the picture of calmness. If it wasn't for his voice Valentine would have been able to pretend nothing was wrong. "Shouldn't take too long now, I hope. Remind me to reprimand him for lazing about when we finally get out of here, okay?" 

Valentine sat up and frowned down at his brother, trying to push down his sudden anxiety. They had been there several days, after all, without knowing anything that happened outside the room they were trapped in. "Do you really think he's taking his time finding us? On purpose?" 

Mercutio's face fell and he pushed himself into a sitting position as well, grimacing the whole time. He was breathing hard when he was done, but focused on Valentine instead of trying to recover his breath. His voice was wrecked, and it hurt to listen to him, but despite the obvious effort he spoke at a normal volume, forcing Valentine to really listen to him. "No, listen, that was just something I said to be funny, okay? It wasn't a funny joke, I understand that now, but I didn't mean it. Val. Valentine, listen to me. Uncle will come and find us. He'll rip the entire city apart if he has to, I know it. It's just a question of time, because he's actually just a human, if you'll believe it. I know, I know, I was shocked when I found out too. He may seem as all-knowing and powerful as God, or have a face like one of those demons you see portrayed everywhere—" Valentine giggled behind his hand "—but I am regretful to say that he is just as much of a human as you and me. At least I think so." Mercutio pretended to think about it, then smile and rubbed Valentine's hair. "But no matter what, he will find us. I don't know when, just that it will happen. All we have to do is hang in here, okay?" 

"Okay." Valentine smiled back at his brother. Mercutio made it sound so easy, so obvious, and Valentine felt ashamed for his earlier distress. They had each other and together they would make it. They just had to wait for their uncle to find them. 

"Good. Now, have you eaten anything?" 

"No, I was waiting for you." Valentine jumped up to his feet and ran to get the tray a meek looking girl had come with earlier. The quality of the food was far beneath what they used to eat, but at least there was enough for the two of them, so neither would starve. As they ate Valentine talked, filling the air and letting Mercutio's voice rest. He kept talking afterwards, said whatever came into his mind, and when he noticed that Mercutio had fallen asleep, exhaustion written across his face now that he didn't hold it back, he crawled over and burrowed into his brother's side. With Mercutio there Valentine felt safe. Protected. Nothing and no one could harm him when Mercutio was there. 

The next day went as the former ones had: the girl came with their breakfast in the morning, shortly after a pair of men came into the room where Mercutio insulted them and expertly pushed every button they showed until they manhandled him out of the room, and then Valentine was left by himself to wait. The girl came again with another tray of food, and Valentine ignored it as he waited. And waited. And waited. 

By the time his stomach was screaming at him in hunger he was pacing. Worry gnawed at him, and he in turn gnawed at his fingers. It was taking long, too long. They had never had Mercutio so long, he was always back before Valentine started feeling hungry. He was long, long past that point. There was no way for him to actually know the time, but he was sure Mercutio should have been hours earlier. Had something gone wrong? Had Mercutio pushed them so far that they had decided to kill him? Had they decided to keep the two of them in separate rooms, as a punishment or a new way of torment? 

His mind was buzzing with questions and he imagined scenario after scenario, each one worse than the other. Sometime during his pacing he had begun to cry, but he only wiped his face with his sleeve when it got too hard to see. He was too worried to actually feel scared, and when the door finally opened he ran over immediately. Normally he would have freaked out about coming so close to the men who had captured them and held them prisoners, as well as tortured his brother, but all he could focus on was Mercutio. 

Mercutio, who had a look in his eyes Valentine had never seen. Mercutio, who took a step when pushed and then fell into a heap. Mercutio, who flinched away when Valentine reached for him. When he blinked his eyes cleared and he leaned into Valentine's hands instead, but the naked fear in his eyes stayed in Valentine's mind. 

"What did you do?" he asked without thinking, staring at the man who had pushed Mercutio into the room. He didn't know whether to be scared or angry, and the subsequent consequence was that he was neither. 

The man scoffed and smiled, sending a shiver down Valentine's spine. "Your brother is willing to do anything to keep you safe, brat. You should take care of him now, because we'll be wanting him back tomorrow." 

Valentine stared as the door closed, leaving the two brothers alone again. He clutched Mercutio closer, feeling the shivers that Mercutio couldn't quite hold back, and cursed everything. "What did you do?" he asked, emotions making his voice tight. 

"Guess they were getting tired of my screams, heard them talking about grabbing you tomorrow," Mercutio answered tonelessly. "I did what I had to." 

It took several tries before Valentine could get out any sounds through his numb throat, but eventually he managed a shaky, disbelieving, "You didn't. Cutio. Tell me you didn't- not for me." 

Mercutio stayed silent, and that was all the confirmation Valentine needed. He started crying again, bending over and holding his brother close while he swore at him. Through it all Mercutio was silent, but he held on to Valentine with a desperation Valentine had never seen or felt from him. 

There was nothing to say, after, and they ate their food in an uneasy silence. Mercutio didn't eat much, only a small amount of what he used to, but frankly speaking Valentine couldn't blame him. The hunger he had felt earlier had disappeared too, and every bite felt like mud in his mouth. All he could think of was the next day, when they would be coming to take Mercutio again. He couldn't let it happen. He had let Mercutio take on too much for his sake, he couldn't let it continue. 

When he woke up the next day Mercutio was gone, and Valentine screamed, banging against the door. No one came. 

He was waiting next to the door—had been waiting, waiting, waiting the whole day—when it finally opened. A quick look assured him it wasn't Mercutio opening the door but one of the men, and the fury that had grown the entire day removed whatever hesitation he might have had. Valentine wasn't a large person, he was a skinny fourteen year old boy, but he was had surprise and cold rage on his side, as well as the knowledge of many tricks Mercutio had taught him in the past. The first man went down with a moan, clutching his groin, but by the time Valentine had gotten past him the other man had let go of Mercutio and was ready for him. Valentine couldn't dodge his fist, and the collision with the wall made his whole world hazy. It took a moment for him to even realize that there was a hand pressing his face into the cold stone, but he heard Mercutio's shout easy enough. 

"Stop it, don't hurt him! Let go of him!" 

The pressure forcing him against the wall increased, but then it disappeared completely, and Valentine could finally look around. Mercutio was pale and shaking but defiant, his raised hand still tightened into a fist. There was a red mark on the nameless man's face, and he was staring at Mercutio. For a second no one moved or said anything, but then the man's hand flew out and tightened around Mercutio's throat, making him cry out. Valentine shouted and moved to stop him, but the man who he had attacked first had recovered enough to grab his arm and slam him back against the wall, then holding him there while he glared darkly. 

"You don't want us to hurt him, do you?" The man holding Mercutio leaned closer. "He waited for us and then attacked Marco, and you don't want us to hurt him? You dare raise a hand to me, you dumb whore, and you say _'don't hurt him'_?" 

Valentine could see Mercutio struggle, could see his fight to breathe, and he tried to free himself. He was only slammed into the stone again, and again, until he stopped trying to move. The man continued talking without a care about him. 

"You've done anything you want since the beginning, and now you dare tell us not to hurt your precious little brother? Open your eyes, 'Your Highness', and stop pretending you can demand something. Your damn uncle refuses to pay us, and the only reason either of you are still alive is because you showed you were willing to do anything to stop us from killing you. You don't get to order us!" 

"Please," Mercutio forced out with a cracked voice, and it was the sound of him that made the tears finally fall from Valentine's eyes. 

He had done this. He had made Mercutio—proud, defiant, unrepentant Mercutio—beg. For _his sake._ What had he even thought was going to happen? He hadn't thought, that was the problem, and now Mercutio was getting even more hurt trying to save him. 

He didn't deserve to be saved. 

Valentine wasn't watching, but he could hear how Mercutio abruptly gasped loudly, then started coughing and wheezing, and when he looked up he saw that Mercutio was leaning heavily against the opposite wall, sucking air into his deprived body. Their captors exchanged a look, and then Valentine was dragged away from the wall and pushed back into the room. Mercutio soon came after him and they watched in silence as the door slammed shut. 

Crawling over to Mercutio Valentine curled around him and sobbed for real, apologizing over and over until he had no breath left. Mercutio didn't say anything, but he held Valentine close and let him cry. 

The next day came, but even as they waited the door stayed shut. Neither the girl with the food nor the men showed up, and Valentine was grateful that he hadn't thought of eating anything the day before. He shared the food with Mercutio and then they waited together. The hours went by and Valentine felt anxiety burrow deeper and deeper into him. There was definitely something wrong now. Was it because of what he had done yesterday? Were their captors going to ignore them now, let them starve to death as punishment? Had they gone away, simply left Mercutio and Valentine behind? 

Mercutio spent most of the day sleeping, and Valentine let him. He deserved as much rest as he could get, even though Valentine himself was far too anxious to rest. He kept repeating the day before, going through the scene over and over again. Their uncle had refused to pay ransom. Mercutio had given himself to keep Valentine and himself alive. Valentine had destroyed all his effort. 

He couldn't have said how much time had passed when he heard noises come from behind the door, but the moment he registered it he shook Mercutio, whispering, "Something's happening." 

Almost immediately Mercutio stood up—he swayed so bad Valentine thought he would fall over, but he managed to stay standing—and pushed Valentine behind his back. The sight of the wounds on his back made the protests die on Valentine's tongue and he decided to instead clutch Mercutio's arm. Whatever happened he wanted Mercutio to know he was there. 

He felt panic flood him when the man from the day before rushed in with drawn sword. In front of him Mercutio tensed, but then he turned and pushed Valentine so hard he fell backwards. Valentine cursed and scrambled to his feet, but by the time he stood up again he felt the core of him grow cold as he watched Mercutio get pierced by that sword. The small sound Mercutio made would forever be etched into his memory, he was sure of it. 

"I won't let you go just like this," the man hissed and pulled back his sword, then turned and ran out the room again without a second glance backwards. 

That was another image Valentine would never forget, Mercutio falling to the floor as though there was nothing holding him up. Someone screamed—Valentine thought it was him, because there wasn't anyone else there, was there?—as Valentine ran forward and gathered Mercutio in his arms. 

Mercutio coughed and wiped blood from his chin with a shaky hand. "He-hey. Don't worry, okay? It's just a flesh wound. I'll be fine." 

Valentine shook his head, and hiccuped, trying desperately to gather himself enough to make words. There was too much tears in the way, he couldn't see Mercutio, but no matter how much he rubbed at his eyes it didn't get better. "I'm so sorry, Cutio, I'm so-sorry. I didn't mean... I was stupid, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" 

"Don't." Mercutio's breathing was labored but he stared up furiously at Valentine, and Valentine found he couldn't look away. "Listen to me. None of this is your fault. Do you hear me? This is not your fault." 

"Bu-but it is," Valentine sobbed, finally saying what he had thought of the whole day. "You've been protecting me the whole time, and if I hadn't been so _stupid_ yesterday-" 

"I did what I wanted to do because I wanted to do it. It's not your fault. You don't control people's actions, Val, no matter how much amazing you are. And this? This is not because of yesterday. Don't you get it? Uncle's here. So it's not your fault either. I want to hear you say it. Now!" 

"It's not my fault," Valentine muttered without much feeling. But it was apparently enough for Mercutio, who nodded and let out a shaky breath. He was shaking so much, and fighting for breath. Valentine bent over him and whispered, "I'll say it however many times you want, just please stay with me. Cutio, I love you, so please don't leave me. I can't- please, please, don't leave me." 

When their uncle's men finally found them Mercutio had stopped shaking, but Valentine couldn't stop crying. 


End file.
